Slingin' from the hip, never the heart. | Open Post

[tinstar]

Raylan's job took him everywhere, from Harlan to Los Angeles to Paris. The Marshals service was demanding but Raylan leaned into the work, traveling as needed to get to get his man.

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[tinstar]

The drive of Raylan's thrusts slow to a stop in the span of those few short kisses, head dropping down to almost rest on Tim's shoulder as Raylan tries to catch his breath. Tim untangles from him but there's no rush from him to hurry, so Raylan doesn't. He doesn't think about later either, or them at work. It was a can he would kick down the road as far as he could.

Those kinds of conversations tended to close doors, in Raylan's experience. 'This was nice but-'. Putting off that gut punch of demanded discipline again, which he feared would be harder, now that he'd fully gotten to enjoy a night with his partner. Now that he knew what it was like to hold Tim against him in the lazy warmth of bed and what it felt like to sleep next to him.

He can't help but huff half a laugh at Tim's new conundrum, shifting his hips to slide himself out as he lifts up enough to bring Tim's face into focus, wearing that shit eating grin again.

"If she gives you any looks, bring her a pie and a smile. It'll charm her right into defendin' your right to be young," he drawls, shifting himself out from between Tim's leg but settling next to him, one hand staying on Tim's hip. "Maybe you'll get lucky and she'll've left her hearin' aids out. I'm more worried about your wall."

[comfortablyerect]

God. He doesn't want to move. Not when Raylan's looking down at him like that, hair falling into his face, wearing that easy grin. What if he got to experience this vision every morning? What if he always got to fall asleep with Raylan's arm flung over his waist? It feels wildly within reach, despite what logic and history are trying to tell him.

He could use a drink. Which is kind of how they ended up here. His internal clock says it's probably just after seven. No immediate reason they have to climb out of bed and face the day yet, so against Tim's better judgment, he doesn't.

"She'll know it's store bought," Tim mutters. Because he doesn't know how to bake a pie. Hell, he keeps a small stock of MREs in one of his cabinets for nights he gets home too late to order carry-out, or just wants something a little bit familiar.

Raylan mentions the wall, and Tim's curiosity gets the best of him. With a sigh, he pushes himself up with one hand, half-turning to examine the wall behind the headboard. There's a distinct line of chipped paint where the wood thumped repeatedly against it. Tim only gives a little grin of his own as he drops himself back onto the bed, purposefully landing so his head rests on Raylan's bicep.

"Worth it."

[tinstar]

Raylan can't help but chuckle at Tim's declaration and the way the man drops back down on him makes Raylan only snuggle in more, tangling their legs loosely together. It would be so easy to get used to this, so easy to let idle heartbound daydreams take over and promise the world. Tim looked perfect with the sun peeking across his skin, that little toothy grin leaving a softness not normally seen in the sniper's expression.

"Easily fixed. Next time maybe the frame gets moved a little. And that little old lady won't expect a homemade pie from a bachelor. It'll still get you points in your favor."

God, he wanted to kiss him again already, bruise that mouth a little more like another mark that Tim would hav'ta carry around to remember their night together. Maybe he'll get lucky and that'll be what digs in Tim's head. Maybe it leads to another night together.

"You thought about what you're gonna say when Rachel spots that mark I left on your neck?" It looked good too, in that lewd primal way. He was going to be as distracted by it as he was the love bruise he could feel under his collarbone.

[comfortablyerect]

Next time.

He's almost positive that Raylan hasn't even realized he's said it. And maybe he just means the next time Tim has sex in general, but Tim's choosing to believe that he means the next time they have sex. After all, Raylan stayed the night, and he doesn't seem rushed to get dressed and see himself out. It reasons that they might both want a next time. Tim reaches up, idly fingering the bruise Raylan left on his throat. It aches pleasantly beneath his touch. Also worth it.

"Probably just gonna tell 'er to guess and see what happens. Seems fun. Let 'em all start up a bettin' pool they ain't ever gonna get the answer to."

It would be their fault for ever expecting to get a straight answer from him of all people. Nobody keeps their personal life as closely guarded in that office as he does. Not even Rachel, though she's a very close second.

"Next time," he ventures, trailing a hand down Raylan's side and bringing it to a rest on his hip. "Maybe we try out some surfaces that aren't the bed. Or the couch."

[tinstar]

It was almost innocent, a boot in the truth of it, a boot in the hope that they might get to enjoy this again. Because he was positive that Tim had enjoyed their night together, as accidental and whiskey encouraged as it was. He was fully aware that not all of Tim's nights were like this, and he hoped that there was a reprieve from whatever darkness was kicking around Tim's head, but that didn't stop the possibility that Tim didn't want more than what it was.

Something Raylan would respect, if it was laid out. Even if he didn't really want to.

He can't help but chuckle at Tim's assessment. It was always a hellva lotta fun to watch him fuck with people, until those people were Raylan, but the rumor mill would go wild and Raylan would bet there'd be a betting pool by lunch about how Tim got all marked up. One he'd put twenty dollars in so no one suspects anything. Not that he thought they would anyway.

Tim's trailing hand has Raylan's skin growing goose bumps, and he can't help but smile at the suggestion. The hand draped on Tim's hip grips him slightly, Raylan's smile widening into a soft, impish grin as his heartbeat picks up.

"Lookin' to break a table huh? Really, we just outta make a nest in your livin' room." His expression softens a little, grin coming back down to an easy smile. "Just tell me when. No whiskey required."

Just in case Tim had the idea to get it into his head that Raylan would only do this drunk. Drunk or sober, he wanted Tim. It might all be a mistake - there were office rules for a reason and Raylan was forever eyeing the door out of Kentucky - but that had never stopped him before. It wasn't going to stop him now either.

[comfortablyerect]

It was probably just a matter of time before things went haywire, as they tended to do. That's normally enough to make Tim play it safe. A long line of nameless faces meant the feelings aspect never has to come into play. It's not just meant to protect himself. It's more about not subjecting anyone else to all this damage.

Damage that not even Raylan fully knows the extent of. The vicious cycle of trauma and drinking and nightmares. Some are harder to come back from than others. Some feel impossible to pull himself out of until he does. None of them are something he wants other people around for.

But this -- Raylan's crooked smile and the hand gripping his hip, everything highlighted in an early morning post-sex glow. He's thought about it too much to willingly let it go now that he has it within reach. Even if it means selfishly breaking a few of his own rules.

Maybe it'll end in disaster, but maybe it'll be as worth it as the broken furniture.

"What if I said tonight?"

Is it greedy? Almost certainly. Does he care? Definitely not.

[tinstar]

Raylan lifts his eyebrows in a soft surprise, but it comes with a "Well," as he rolls towards Tim, gently pushing him onto his back so that Raylan can half hover from his position as he continues.

"If you said tonight, then I'd have to say that we gotta get goin'. Get the work day started so we can end it again," he says, smile spreading as he leans in and steals Tim's lips up in a kiss. When it breaks, he keeps his face close.

"Come shower with me. I don't care about comin' into the office smellin' like you and no one would know the difference anyway."

Right now, there were no downsides. That might change as some of the rose colored film rubs off, but that was always going to come so Raylan plans on enjoying what Tim will allow him to for as long as he can.

[comfortablyerect]

Gotta get going, Raylan says, like he hasn't just rolled them into the perfect position for Tim to wrap legs around his waist and keep him there for a little while longer. It's tempting, especially with the way Raylan's hair falls in front of his face like this. Tim reaches up to push it back, fingers threading through the locks and coming to rest on the back of his head as they kiss.

He's never much been one for leisurely kisses, or for lazing around in bed, but he finds himself wanting to do both with Raylan. This already feels like such a slippery slope, but he's not turning back now.

"You're gonna make it real hard for me to focus today, you know."

Nobody else will know the difference, but all he's going to think about when he catches his own scent on Raylan is their time together this morning. He gives Raylan's hair a gentle tug, nudging him by the shoulder so they can both get up.

"Shower then coffee. Can't say I have much in the way of breakfast, though."

Unless Raylan wants to eat an MRE, which Tim very highly doubts.

[tinstar]

Lingering in bed was a luxury better had by those people who were wholly comfortable with each other and the secrets that slipped out in that kind of environment - it was dangerous for them to indulge in it. Even if Raylan did love how Tim's fingers felt carding through his hair to settle around his neck or the way he felt underneath him. He could see a future of them laying in bed and enjoying each other, ordering room service at a hotel, laying around in each other's company until noon or later.

Raylan smiles cheekily at the reminder, eyebrows bouncing softly. He wasn't sorry at all - now that he knew he could make it hard to focus, there was a satisfaction in it. In knowing that Tim wanted him as much as he wanted Tim. In knowing that he would end up back here in Gutterson's bed at the end of the day.

"We can get breakfast on the way," he promises, bending to kiss Tim's neck despite the tugs and nudges before crawling off him and standing up, still smiling. "Lead the way."